Isabelle turned, hurrying back to the cottage and through the door to le Jardin, not looking back for a moment. They would come back for her soon enough, force her to Marilet like Bellinor had said.But she was tired. Tired of decisions being made by everyone but herself.
Marilet was nothing but grief, sadness, betrayal, loneliness, and she was so tired of being alone.
When she saw the empty hallway, she hurried down it, each passing door solidifying her decision, making her walk taller, a sense of ease coming over her.
She passed the Submerged Hall, smiling at the memories of swimming with Rul, lounging on the oversized statues as they wiled the days away in relaxed bliss. And then there was the dark wood door to the red room, where she had beenenlightened, where her suffering had become magical.
It would have been lovely to see Bellinor’s garden one more time, but as she finally stepped up to the enormous door, she was as light as a feather, the tears trickling to a stop. Isabelle grasped for the heavy ring, pulling it with all her might until it opened, using every bit of her strength to create a crack large enough to fit through.
With a final deep breath, she slipped through the door, entering the void.
An immediate sensation of overwhelming dread enveloped her, her body weighed down like she was made of lead. Each step was an effort, her chest constricting as she walked along the obsidian path. Intense heat surrounded her, footsteps echoing into the abyss beyond, the sound reverberating perpetually, never fading.
It was a cacophony, her head already hurting, but she moved onward. Wisps of spectral energy driftedby, flickering in and out of existence. If she listened closely, she could hear their wails, torment that would soon be her own.
She looked back at le Jardin, an architectural marvel dropped in the middle of the endless abyss. The facade glowed with a silvery sheen, an ethereal beauty untethered by the restraints of reality. Each arched window was covered by black curtains, and pressure welled in her chest, a silent goodbye echoing in her head as tears blurred her vision.
Even if her time there was brief, at least for a short while, she was able to feel whole. Life had been hollow in Marilet–perhaps she’d been just as much of a shell as her father had–but she had seen how it could be different. She wiped the tears from her eyes and turned, steeling herself for what was to come.
As she continued on, shadows slithered along the edges of the path, somehow darker than the slick stone, though there was no light to cast them. The void pulled at her mind, all of her thoughts leaving one by one, the despair, the melancholy, the loneliness, the grief fading away until she no longer remembered why she was feeling them at all.
Only emptiness remained, the pure and beautiful absence of everything. She was part of the void, a black hole to consume and be consumed. There was no moon mother, no temple, no Marilet, just an irrational world. There was joy in the struggle to find meaning, in embracing all that life had to offer–torture, anguish, ecstasy, fulfillment,love.
Celeste was a false goddess, a wretched witch, and Isabelle was powerful.
She may be sinful, but she lived in her truth, accepted herself as she was without artifice or guile. And she had others who accepted her as well, wholovedher.
Who she loved enough to let herself be devoured by le Voile.
And for once, there was no sense of obligation weighing her down; she was sacrificing herself because shewantedto.
Something circled around her ankle, pulling her to the ground and dragging her toward the edge of the jagged bridge. Bits of flesh were torn from her skin, and she relished the pain, a sick smile curling her lips.
Gone was the shame; pure rapture left in its wake.
As she fell into the chasm, she was in an altered state, completely at peace, just like when Rul and Bellinor dominated her. She submitted to le Voile like she submitted to her lovers, offering herself freely and without hesitation.
“Isabelle!”
She heard a name, but was it hers anymore? She was weightless, floating through the primordial void, a surge of pleasure racing through her as her dress was torn to shreds. There was the warmth of her own blood, though she no longer experienced the pain, just euphoric release at the total destruction of being and personhood.
But she wasn’t gone. Not yet.
There was a searing pain at her back, then a billow of feathers fluttering in the windless air. Shetested them, beating them gently until she was flying, darkness surrounding her on all sides.
Her head was throbbing as if it were in a vice, and then piercing pain in two spots. As blood dripped into her eyes, she fingered the new protrusions bursting from her auburn hair.
Horns.
She pricked her finger against the sharp tip, licking her lips as blood coated them, the metallic taste electrifying every nerve in her body.
It was all happening so fast, and yet every second stretched on for an eternity, her limbs cracking and elongating, excruciating pain giving way to intense pleasure. Her body hummed with need, a crazy giggle bubbling in her chest as a whip-like tail exploded from her skin, forcing her to arch her back.
Still, something encircled her ankle, dragging her deeper and deeper.
“Isabelle!”
The word echoed all around her, and she tried to reach for it, but she was weak. She was tired. As she closed her eyes, she heard the thumping of wings, felt a fierce grip on her body, letting le Voile take her.
